


The Future Favors the Bold

by chase3136



Series: YuuRam Future [3]
Category: Kyou Kara Maou!, Kyou Kara Maou! (anime), Kyou Kara Maou! R (OAV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Betrayal, F/F, F/M, Future Fic, Heartbreak, Infidelity, Jealousy, M/M, Mpreg, Multi, Power Uke Wolfram, Pregnant Wolfram, Problematic Behavior, Repentance, Revenge, Revenge Sex, Same-Sex Marriage, Self-Feminization, Spoiler Alert: Markel DOES NOT DIE!, YuuRam Endgame, character injury, courting, dark themes, fight for love, provoked attack, spitefulness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-17 00:45:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4646106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chase3136/pseuds/chase3136
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beginning from vision Yūri saw in the prequel: T H E D R Y W I N D F U T U R E...here is the 2nd ALTERNATE Sequel...</p><p>…200 years later, when the Double Black Maō makes another selfish decision Wolfram, finally, decides to fight fire with fire...</p><p>…THIS STORY features Mpreg & Revenge…</p><p>Gisela looked confused and maybe even more anxious, but she smiled and placed her hand over his, squeezing to show her love and support. "Are you going to tell his Majesty?" she queried in a hushed voice.</p><p>Wolfram smirked triumphantly, unable to help himself.</p><p>"Yes, of course."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 'He who fears he shall suffer already suffers what he fears.' ~Michel de Montaigne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story Notes: prepare yourselves for heartache…
> 
> I began this story in September 2012 and my headcanon for Mpreg has changed since then so this will be different to what I have planned for Yūri's Fears (meaning no spoilers).
> 
> WARNING: Major Character Deaths! Over 200 years have passed by and time has left its mark upon our beloved Maou's heart…NOT Yuuri, Wolfram OR Markel...and PROBLEMATIC BEHAVIORS! No one is innocent in this story, everyone behaves insensitively which I would NEVER condone in real life...This story was written for the purpose of ANGST and the worst tropes in the YuuRam fandom explored, with a plot twist or two because I don't agree with any of them either...INFIDELITY, BETRAYAL, REVENGE SEX, CHARACTER INJURY, SPITEFULNESS, PROVOKED ATTACK, DARK THEMES...
> 
> (EDITED: 30/08/2015)

** **

**W** olfram stared out of the window of his Private Bedchambers, the heavy navy blue velvet curtains left wide open, watching silently, the full moon that hung like a fond memory within clear sight but far out of reach. He was curled in on himself on the peach satin window-seat, his head resting against the cool glass-barrier keeping him apart from the autumn world outside.

His thoughts were in chaos as always, it had been many, many years since Wolfram had experienced peace of mind, and tonight his continuous migraine was at its most prominent. The cool glass pressed against his left temple and cheek, detracted him slightly from the pounding behind his eyes. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept the whole night through, his exhaustion was bone-deep and unavoidable, and still sleep would not take him this night. He was sick and tired of feeling persistently weak and lifeless but, try as he might to fight this terrible drift of emotions, at some point he knew he had truly given up.

At this moment in time, he knew his beloved Husband and King, was embracing his Official Concubine, Lady Melinda von Gyllenhaal, a distant cousin of Lord von Gyllenhaal's niece. The fair mistress had been picked out of many during the Maiden Love Festival Shin Mazoku had hosted every year for the last hundred years, a tradition Lady Cecilie had initiated through her incessant need to prove that Free Love triumphs over all. Every bachelorette would be at attendance, hoping against hope that their Monarch would choose them to sate his desires.

For two centuries every ten years, twenty times Wolfram had watched as Yūri chose maiden after maiden over him. Wolfram had offered himself in each and every one of their places, demanded, insisted to the point of begging, vowing on his last breath that he could satisfy his Love greater than any woman, Princess or Lady ever could. And still Yūri turned him away, the same excuses, the same kind words of rejection, for more than two hundred years, the same everlasting heartache. Not even Wolfram's misguided attempts to create a more feminine image for himself had done him any good. Wolfram had grown out his hair so that it fell in rivulets of golden curls down to his slim waist and he had all his clothes cut to accentuate his most effeminate features, all to no avail. Yūri simply didn't see him.

And then, Lady Melinda was chosen. Twenty five years ago, she was chosen amongst thousands to share the Maō's bed like Wolfram, the Prince Consort, never would. For twenty five years, Wolfram has watched from a distance how comfortable she had become in her role of Royal Concubine, how confident she became, knowing that she had held her position longer than any maiden before her. And she suspected, as did many others, what Wolfram feared the very most.

That Yūri had finally fallen in love with another.

Wolfram felt his eyes sting with the tears his eternal, internal agony brought him often, and like so many times before, his pain wet the sickly pale skin of his rounded cheeks; his narrow jaw; his elegant neck, like a gushing stream trickling over smooth granite rock.

The pain was so potent that there were times, much like this, when Wolfram dared to regret the day he agreed to marry Yūri. He knew, even then, when the Nobles decided to unite Yūri and him in matrimony that Yūri was not ready. At twenty-three years, Yūri was asked by the Ten Nobles to marry, to secure their Kingdom from a foreign diplomatic concord between Nations, which had the potential to disrupt their way of living, with a strong marriage alliance. And of course, Wolfram von Bielefeld, the 26th Maō's youngest son, nephew of Waltorana von Bielefeld one of the prestigious Ten Nobles and only heir to the von Bielefeld legacy, not to mention already the 27th Maō's fiancé, had been the perfect applicant.

And predictably, Wolfram jumped at the opportunity. Yūri was reluctant but resigned, and Wolfram recklessly provoked the Gods of Fate by having the audacity to assume his dream of being Yūri's one and only Love was within his reach at last. Wolfram was on cloud nine throughout the lead up to the Marriage Ceremony, floating through his daily chores and preparations of his finest hour. Even when his Grace, the Great Sage pulled him aside one afternoon after his patrol and spoke to him softly about getting his hopes too high with Yūri still naive about the trials of love and lust, Wolfram did not listen. He brushed the Wise Sage's advice aside and carried on his high. Nothing could bring him down: everything was finally going his way.

And then, reality brought him crashing back down to solid ground on his Wedding Night. Nothing had changed, he'd discovered. Yūri still refused his love, and a huge argument broke out between them, resulting in Wolfram setting fire to the bed in a fit of rage and the Maō to come out to punish him, banishing him from his new Husband's side until he had calmed himself. For three weeks afterwards, Wolfram fumed at the injustice of Yūri's continued resistance, refusing to see anyone, even when their beloved daughter, Queen Greta came to visit from her resurrected Kingdom of Zoracca: a rare visit.

Eventually, Wolfram convinced himself that all was not lost, that time was on his side as was their marriage union. And for thirty-seven years, Wolfram pushed and persuaded Yūri to stop being a wimp and experience their love, to start a family with him now that Greta was married, to Beatrice and unified their kingdoms. However, Yūri was content with his adopted daughter's happiness, even with Shōma and Miko's pleads for more grandchildren. Yūri told them firmly that Greta was enough, and Shōri's marriage to an Earth-woman and their children, and then grandchildren, seemed to only strengthen Yūri's resolve.

However, tragedy struck Yūri at his heart when Miko gave into old age at ninety-six years. Wolfram tried to be there for his Husband but Yūri pushed him away all the harder after that, clinging more and more to Conrad who was visibly mid-thirties by that point, and Wolfram began to see his last thread of hope slipping between his desperately grasping fingers. Shōma followed soon after his wife – demons rarely live long after their Mate has passed and, even though, Yūri was warned of this, it still shocked him to his core when his father died of cardiac arrest, two months after his mother's funeral.

Shōri's wife was the next to perish from something called a brain tumor, and both Shibuya brothers fell into a deep depression which still lingered to this very night, as the true meaning of immortality crashed upon them. Shōri remained as Earth's Maō, choosing to live alone, not wanting to replace his wife but clinging to life for his great-great-great-great grandson and baby brother's sake. They had both lost too much already. And Wolfram respected Shōri more and more every day he continued to survive.

When Greta died at seventy-seven years, Wolfram could see Yūri sink into a dark despair through his own haze of agony and grief where not even Conrad could reach him. When Greta died, she took Yūri's heart and the last of Wolfram's hope into the afterworld with her.

That was when Yūri became open about his affairs. Wolfram had suspected for many years and had slowly become accustomed to the nauseous feeling of betrayal but the humiliation of having the whole Kingdom, the Nation and aligning Countries know about his Husband's rejection, killed him little by little every day. Gwendal was still furious on his behalf while Conrad had been confused and disappointed by Yūri's announcement that he knew, as Maō, he could have Concubines if he so wished and he wanted one immediately. Cecilie had been the first to accept such behavior from their beloved Maō and thus the Maiden Love Festival was born, and Wolfram's worst nightmare thrown into the harsh light of day, draped in lustful red roses and satin lace gowns.

Wolfram hadn't spoken to his mother since.

Conrad blamed himself and Wolfram wanted to blame him too, but when confronted with his little big brother's aggrieved apology for not being a better guide for Yūri, for not interfering sooner, Wolfram couldn't bring himself to take his anguish out on him. Wolfram had always felt that Conrad loved Yūri more than him, that everyone must hold more affection for their King than for his poor, virgin Consort, however, once Yūri's indiscretion was revealed there was a noticeable divide in everyone's behavior from then onward.

Conrad was the most obvious difference. More and more the middle-aged, half-Mazoku began to pull away from the still young King. Yūri didn't seem to notice at first but when Conrad's increased absence from the palace, from the Kingdom, came to light, Yūri almost didn't seem to care. Wolfram had known that Conrad had been seriously considering asking Gwendal for a demotion from Head of the Maō's Personal Guard to Reconnoiter before it happened, so he could be with his secret lover and be "more of use", he had said.

So, Conrad had followed his heart and Jozak, abandoning Wolfram to his misery, although, Wolfram forgave him for it because he had seen how broken Conrad's spirit had become seeing his baby brother in so much pain and being unable to do anything about it, and it hurt him just as much to leave his baby brother behind. Wolfram would rather Conrad share his despair from afar than see it every day, reflected within his cold, kind eyes.

Gwendal now only spoke to Yūri on matters concerning the Kingdom, their friendly relationship turned to stale ash as soon as Yūri's announcement hit the air. Günter, in devotion to Gwendal, whom he had somehow swindled into marriage thirty years previously, never made any mention of the tense atmosphere that now prohibited Blood Pledge Castle, staying polite and fair towards Yūri and the entire situation.

It's such a shame that, by the time the gossiping, wagering scullery maids became emersed in shame and guilt over their past profiting from Wolfram's continued agony they became flustered and overly attentive whenever they waited on the Prince Consort, that he no longer felt anything. No joy, no anger, no hatred, no jealousy, no love for anything. He had become comfortably numb sometime between the third Concubine and the twentieth. And that's when everyone within Blood Pledge Castle felt a rise of desperation.

The Kingdom had never been more peaceful, more beautiful, all those who had opposed the vow of peace between each Country including Shimaron under the continued Rule of King Saralegui, who remains close personal friends with the most powerful Maō in history, have been silenced through many hardships which were overcome with Yūri at its heart.

However, within the high, stone walls of the Capital's fortress, home of Shin Mazoku's King, the villagers could feel the discord raging within Blood Pledge Castle. Never before had the Kingdom been more divided and still, the King remained impervious to compromise.

And Wolfram remained numb to the whole ordeal.

"My Prince?" a deep, smooth voice questioned from the vicinity of Wolfram's queen-sized, four-poster bed, and Wolfram didn't even flinch at the sudden reminder of his own indiscretion and the echoing throb between his long legs, already melding with the persistent pulse behind his eyes.

"Go back to sleep." Wolfram told his lover, his quiet voice carrying with it the tired sadness and frustrated need to not talk. The world was peaceful outside, and Wolfram would not break the illusion by turning to face what he had done. He was patiently waiting for the sun to force him back into his living nightmare. He refused to deal with anything before then.

There was the sound of crinkling sheets and the shifting of bedsprings which brought to life the tainted memory of slick golden skin, stretched tight over finely corded muscles, sliding under his palms and fingertips. Of long, dark hair, tinted blue shrouding him from harsh reality, of bottomless blue eyes pulling him in, encircling him in strong arms, embracing him, loving him like he had never experienced before, taking him in and promising to never let him go.

And it was all a lie.

"Won't you come back to bed, my Prince?" his lover asked him gently, while Wolfram determinedly stared up at the iridescent glow of the moon, his hazy green eyes as empty and lost as his heart.

"No. Go back to sleep."

There came a whispered sound of frustration. "Forgive me, my Prince, but I must speak my mind." His voice was stern, as if expecting Wolfram to refute him. Didn't he know that Wolfram had lost the will to refuse anyone anything a long time ago, and thus, what had happened between them this night had only been a result of that? Judging by the hard, possessive edge to the proclaimed  _"My"_  spoken in the smooth, beckoning voice, Wolfram doubted it. "I have waited many years for you to give into me,  _my_  Prince. And you have waited even longer for our Maō to see reason, and still he remains blind. What I don't understand, Prince Wolfram, is why  **you** should be the one to feel shame when it is  **you**  that has been wronged."

He was right. But Wolfram no longer cared what was right; he no longer cared at all.

So, why then, did he keep defending Yūri?

"Yūri..." He breathed, too tired, too wary to speak at all. But he did, and he didn't know why anymore. "It is not Yūri's fault. He was born in a world where same gender relationships were shunned. It is not his fault that he does not understand my feelings." Did he even believe these words still? These words first spoken by Conrad, which Wolfram had clung to, had made his mantra. Words he had whispered to himself, over and over throughout the years. Words that were so familiar that he didn't need to think, he didn't need to remember, they were simply a part of him now. And it no longer mattered if they weren't true. "I have kept myself for him for those many years for my own sake, not for his. I wanted to give myself only to the one I love. I am ashamed that I was not strong enough to wait longer. Perhaps, someday soon, Yūri will see my love as a blessing in place of a curse, but even if that day never comes, I will always regret my weakness this night." He concluded curtly. He wanted no misunderstanding. He would always regret this, it didn't matter who he was with, if it wasn't Yūri...

"His Majesty is a good King, of that there is no doubt. But his treatment of you is unbecoming!" That voice, which had whispered sweet, lying words of eternal devotion hours earlier, now fumed with righteous hatred for his beloved Monarch. "He is unworthy of your unwavering devotion! Even your brothers agree! Lord von Voltaire was the one to write for me to come, for your sake! I came to the Castle because I wanted to see you again after so long, and I fell in love with you all over again as soon as I laid my eyes on you. I could make you happy." Such an impassioned speech, and he sounded so sure of his ability to fulfill his claim; to fulfill Wolfram.

It was true that Gwendal had been the one to send for this man, his lover, to fulfill him where Yūri refused to, believing that his brother deserved this much at the very least. Gwendal had been desperate enough for his baby brother's happiness he had turned to match-making in order to find a suitable substitute. And this substitute was Markel von Radford, Lord von Radford's son and old friend of Wolfram's from back when they were children, as were all the Ten Noble Families' children, and was, apparently, a proclaimed suitable match.

And fulfill Wolfram, Markel had, to the extent where Wolfram had  _almost_  forgotten his steady pain in place of the pounding pleasure he had experienced for the first time in his half life. Wolfram squeezed his eyes shut as the memory of sensation washed over him, through him... and it felt good, so good it hurt him still... It hadn't meant to, Wolfram had never meant to feel that good with anyone... no one who wasn't Yūri.

The deep voice persisted, "We could leave this Palace, this Kingdom if you wish it. You know, I'd take good care of you. We could travel across oceans together, find adventure, build a new life, a home of our own, start a family –"

Wolfram interrupted, his voice void of annoyance, he could barely remember the emotion which used to be the aptitude of his behavior long ago. "I get seasick. And I can take care of myself; I don't need you to care for me."

"Of course -"

"Didn't you hear me before?" Wolfram questioned not unkindly, lacking the fire within his somber voice. "I love Yūri. I'll always love Yūri. That will never change, I won't change and I've told him as much many times before. Now I'm telling you. I will never leave him, only death can tear me from his side. And I can do nothing but wait for that day to find me." If Wolfram had cared, he would have hated the finality his words were dealt with. Death would be his blessing, if only it would come and take him.

There was a long, intense silence that followed as Wolfram watched as the sun peeked over the distant hills and brought with it another bright day of harsh reality….

And then, "As you wish, my Prince." Markel's disappointment was dripping from his every syllable and Wolfram refused himself the will to spare him a glance. He would only feel lust if he felt anything at all, and that wasn't enough to shield him from another day of his prolonged anguish, not now that the sun had risen again.

**.**

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**.**

Breakfast with Yūri was always a tense affair. Wolfram didn't understand why Yūri even tried to pretend they were as close as they had been when they were young. Wolfram suspected that it was Yūri's attempt to cling on to happier times, and was a spectacular failure.

Not that Yūri could see it.

"You didn't come to bed last night." Yūri murmured slightly reproachful. Wolfram didn't even lift his head from where he was staring listlessly at his full bowl of the best picked, fresh fruits. He couldn't recall the last time he felt hunger for anything other than Yūri... not counting last night's fiasco.

"Wolfram?" Yūri pressed patiently.

Wolfram grunted to show he had heard. He could feel Yūri's expectant dark scowl beside him. "Answer me, please." Yūri now voiced a warning to obey, which had become something which had long passed the stock to their relationship, lacking or not.

Wolfram sighed tiredly, closing his eyes to the sun drenched dining room. "Forgive me, your Majesty. I only did not wish to see our matrimonial bed defiled by you and mistress von Gyllenhaal.  _Again_." Not that he would have cared, of course. No: he was beyond caring at this point in their marriage.

Yūri's scowl grew darker. "Are you sure you hadn't just lost track of time with  **your**  lover, what's his name; von Radford whatever? And what have I told you about calling me  _'your Majesty'_? We're married for God's sake!"

Wolfram released a short bark of forced laughter at that last part. "His name is Markel, not that I expect you to care enough to remember who your  ** _Consort_**  is sleeping with in your place, what with you being infatuated with _dear_   _Melinda_. I'm surprised that you remember  _you're_   _married_  at all,  ** _your Majesty_**." He spat, raising his eyes to stare flatly into the burning black glare his love was bestowing on him.

"I really wish you wouldn't do this, Wolfram." Yūri gritted out, and Wolfram's heart used to flutter like a caged bird whenever his Husband would look at him with those intense eyes, but now the piecing gaze was blunted by Wolfram's migraine.

Wolfram shook his head, his long ringlets of spun golden hair swishing against the black of his Consort uniform and over his expensively clothed shoulder blades, the memory of Cecilie presenting the design to him a fortnight before his Wedding to Yūri, leaping to the forefront of his aching mind. Wolfram had wanted to reject the design completely since the cut was far too effeminate for his tastes, at least to wear in public. However, his mother had rightly pointed out the  _many_  reasons why it would appeal to his Husband-to-be, and Wolfram had grudgingly agreed to the plausibility of her seduction attempt. And she had been right, just as Wolfram had suspected, only it was not the clothes which hadn't been effeminate enough, it was what was underneath which couldn't appeal to their beloved Maō.

"Do what, my love? Speak the truth?" Wolfram answered blandly, putting a red, glistening fruit to his lips with no intention of eating it, he merely posed. What else was a virgin Consort to do, even if he was no longer as pure as he was rumored to be?

Yūri signed heavily and put a palm to his head as if Wolfram was causing him internal anguish. The thought wasn't as pleasing as it had once been. "You're so difficult." Yūri grumbled, and Wolfram could almost believe him.

Wolfram had had enough of this charade already. He let his warm napkin flutter onto his untouched food as he stood from the table with as much dignity as he could fake, and bowed to the Maō politely before turning towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Yūri questioned with exasperation weighing his every word. Wolfram reached the door and paused with his hand poised to make his pitiful exit.

"Somewhere I'm wanted." He uttered, disheartened and opened the door -

"- I want a family again." Yūri's rushed words stopped Wolfram in his tracks. His stomach plummeted to his frozen feet at the same time his heart lurched into his throat, choking his breath. His eyes wide and unseeing, Wolfram glanced over his shoulder with a cold feeling of dread creeping up his stiff spine.  _No._

"What?" He whispered in bewilderment.

Yūri leaned back into his chair, running a large hand through his long, wild black bangs in agitation. He sighed again, closing his pitch dark and childishly wide eyes. "I've been thinking about starting a family of my own. Things have never been the same since Greta... this Palace was a happier place when children's laughter was heard, and it's time that we had that again."

Wolfram slowly turned his side to Yūri, his long hair shadowing his lowered face, keeping his wide and anguished eyes completely hidden from the Maō's view.

"What?" he repeated on a whispered breath.

"I'm thinking of asking Melinda to bare me a child." Yūri explained, straightforward, oblivious to the agony he was inflicting on his silent Consort. And Wolfram had thought he had been numb to anything Yūri could possibly inflict upon him after so long.

He was wrong.

Wolfram began to shake, clenching his fists brutally at his sides, his blood pounding in his ears. The final blow to his heart: the last nail in his coffin. And precious Melinda would have everything he had ever hoped to dream of.

Wolfram died inside. This was the end.

He could take no more.

"Do what you want, as always." Wolfram spat and stormed from the room, his black boots tripping over his own footsteps in his hurry to get away. Tears blurred his sight but he would not let them fall.

He was done crying over Yūri this time his Husband had gone too far. And hate was seeping into the broken matter of his heart, his shattered soul, eating away at the last vestibules of love that lingered still, after everything, so long, inevitably.

**.**

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**.**

Wolfram stood before Murata with a soldier's stance and more fire in his eyes than had flickered to live since the early days of his engagement to the new and strange, half-human Maō. Murata felt for the Prince Consort, Wolfram's situation had affected more people than he probably realized. In fact, he most likely hadn't noticed at all, he most definitely felt all alone in his despair.

And now, Shibuya had crossed a line he could never come back from. And the double-black King wasn't even aware he was losing Wolfram forever, and fast.

"I assume your request isn't intended for Shibuya?" Murata voiced his concern. It was, however, unfair to ask Wolfram not to punish Shibuya in any way he saw fit when the oblivious Maō had done nothing but punish his Bride for something which Wolfram had no control over. Over something which was decided before he was born.

Murata couldn't even blame Shinō for this outcome since he hadn't seen it coming either. Shinō would never have deliberately caused his once, younger brother's soul, to suffer this way, especially, after Rufus had been brutally murdered by his abusive lover in the beginning.

Shinō was as upset about this outcome as the rest of the Kingdom. And only Yūri was too blind to see the ruins surrounding him.

"His Majesty has his own means of procreation now. And, by Shinō's law, I am entitled to the same privilege. So, don't even try to deny me this one thing." Wolfram threatened with blazing green eyes, more beautiful than ever in his forgotten ire.

No, he would not deny him. How could anyone deny him anything?

Murata nodded slowly, his long, fly-away hair very much in fashion nowadays, looking regal and almost identical to his original image. It had not been easy to persuade him to take on his old persona once again, but Shinō can be  _very_ persuasive when he wanted something bad enough.

Shinō's law had been legend for many generations now, almost lost in myth, but Murata expected nothing less from Wolfram than to know of this one thing, this key moment.

Back in the Glorious Era, their race had been dangerously low in numbers because of the humans hunting them: resulting in more men than women and very few children. It was difficult for demons to procreate and there have been many theories as to why. Their prolonged life, their Maryoku, the stars alignment, even the loving earth upon which Shin Mazoku stood had been queried over. And, still, no proof of a cure or problem in the first place to be solved.

So, Shinō had offered to his people a contract with the Mother spirit of the land on which the demon race had been welcome and accepted when the rest of world had hunted and feared them. Shinō had asked the Mother to bless him with the power to save his people, and received the precious power to gift a free willing Mazoku male with the ability to bare children as only a female can, however, with the same difficulties.

A maryoku womb: which was a permanent change and only as reliable as a demon female's ability to be both fertile and able to bear a child to term safely. Meaning: there was no guarantee that the demon male would be able to conceive or either of them surviving the birth.

And yet, Murata had a feeling that Wolfram would make it happen, and for no other reason than to make Shibuya suffer, even a little.

Although, he hoped that, maybe, this tragedy could cure even a little of the beautiful Consort's loneliness. Then, perhaps, all this suffering would be worth something.

Shinō stepped down to stand beside Murata, the solid heels of his brown leather, sapphire encrusted boots tapping on the marble floor of his resident Temple, his red cape draping off one shoulder dragging against Murata's loose black sleeve flirtatiously.

Shinō smiled at Wolfram sadly, even he had matured more in the past two centuries than the thousand years before it and the three hundred he had originally lived, combined.

"Of course, I will not deny you, Prince Consort." Shinō said pleasantly, meeting Wolfram's blazing glare with a glint of appreciation sparking in his twin blue eyes. "I wish only that this gift will somehow be enough to heal all the damage my Vessel has inflicted upon you." he added softly.

Wolfram was beyond soft emotion at this point, he had grown too harsh. "I will make it enough." He assured sharply, lifting his chin arrogantly and he presented himself to his Original King, a willing sacrifice to do with what the Great One wished.

Shinō nodded firmly, and Murata nodded along with him. Whatever Wolfram would do next would be devastating to both Yūri and Shin Mazoku, but they were there to catch the Kingdom before it fell, as for Shibuya... he had made his bed.

And they both acknowledged the real possibility of Wolfram never coming back from where he was heading. However, they were both willing to ignore their instinct to protect for now.

After all, it was the least they could do after ignoring Wolfram's prays for the impossible.

Shinō reached out his palm to black and white, frill-encased abdominal muscles, and kept pushing forward. Wolfram cried out when the phantom hand grasped his insides and began to twist, mold them into new shapes while bright blue Maryoku wrapped its many arms around him in a warm, parental embrace.

And he screamed in impossible agony.

**.**

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Wolfram was as pale as death when he stumbled down the corridor in search of the Concubine quarters. He felt weak and torn open from the inside out before being put hastily back together, but he was determined to begin immediately. He needed to become pregnant before Yūri's mistress Melinda if he was to thoroughly have his vengeance over the naïve King. And, unfortunately, that meant he would have to fetch Markel himself, not wanting to alert anyone that anything was unusual, and Wolfram freely placing himself within Melinda's presence was definitely  _usual_.

Markel had his own set of rooms, of course, but he and Melinda shared a library, dining room and lounge between them. The 7th Maō had wisely had the Wing built with the clear intention to keep his harem far apart from his Consort and children.

Wolfram threw open the double doors to the lounge, the largest room and center of the Wing to find it empty. Wolfram had only ever visited this Wing once before, when Markel had first been assigned his lodgings by Gwendal, and Wolfram had been disgusted with the very existence of this place to begin with, especially as he had heard the rumors of Yūri's lovers staying here, had known of its reality because of this and had kept far away deliberately.

Wolfram heard voices from the open balcony doors, and he approached with ingrained caution.

"I had known, of course, that it was only a matter of time. It is obvious to everyone in the Kingdom that his Majesty, Yūri has chosen me to give his heart to, _finally_. And that he'd choose me to bare his children." The smugness in her girly, high-pitched voice grated on Wolfram's last nerve as he laid eyes on his husband's concubine, and soon-to-be mother of his future children.

Her long, crinkled blonde hair mocked him, as did her clinging turquoise, ruffle and lace gown, and her large hazel eyes that gleamed amber when the light hit them dead on. She wasn't as curvaceous as Wolfram's mother was. However, she possessed the same, slim, feminine curves which Wolfram could only imitate with precisely cut clothing intended to soften his more masculine angles. Those curves of a woman's body which so appealed to his husband and King.

She looked the same as all the rest to Wolfram. He had given up trying to find the 'spark' in each maiden to inhabit these rooms which ignited Yuri's desire for them. His final conclusion was simple and impossible for him to compete with. The only thing all of Yūri's mistresses had in common was their gender.

Wolfram had always loved being male, however, there had been a point, a peak, when he would have done anything as well as journeyed the world by sea, in order to switch his gender in exchange for his husband's love and devotion.

But it had passed, and Wolfram was no longer looking back.

He cleared his throat politely, his green eyes sharp on Lady Melinda as she startled and turned to him with a fleeting jolt of fear in her now seemingly brown eyes. Wolfram hated how her eyes changed so rapidly, as did her expression as she smirked at him coyly, knowing he hated her with a passion which had withered and died sometime before her arrival into Yūri's bed. However, Wolfram was beginning to feel hatred more potent than he had ever known in his young demon life.

The wrench had no idea what was coming.

"My Prince?" The surprise in the deep voice of his lover was a balm to his frayed nerves and Wolfram tore his murderous gaze from the King's whore to look upon Markel, already on his feet with obvious yearning to reach out to the Prince Consort, but also respectful to his status. Wolfram had always admired Markel's regard for their positions in society, never embarrassing Wolfram and at all times attentive with upholding the highest opinions of him.

And standing tall with the low climbing sun at his back in a loose fitting white shirt and brown lounging trousers, his dark blue hair tied at his strong nape with white ribbon, unveiling his angular jaw and slightly pointed nose, with fuller lips than Melinda and Wolfram both, and slanted eyes of drowning blue framed by charmingly long bangs fallen loose from the rest… Wolfram couldn't help but admire him thoroughly.

The father of his soon-to-be-conceived child.

Wolfram smiled softly at the man, his internal assurance in his plan soothing his battered and blistered inner self. He wasn't dead yet, and things were far from over.

"Come." Wolfram commanded gently, reaching out his hand to his astonished lover. "I need you."

Markel was stunned immobile for only a moment before he leapt forward to grasp Wolfram's outstretched hand, holding on almost too hard as if he expected Wolfram to flicker into non-existence at any passing second.

Wolfram didn't spare Melinda another glance whilst he lead Markel out of the Wing and away her wretched presence, not even when Melinda called after them.

"So, you truly have given up at last, your Highness? Perhaps now you will relinquish your marriage to His Majesty? I'm sure  _Y_ _ū_ _ri_  would rather have the mother of his children as his Consort, anyway! Don't you agree?" she called with a tinkling laugh before Wolfram slammed the door behind them.

She had no idea how near to the truth she was, but she would know soon enough.

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"My Prince... What has gotten into you?" Markel gasped and threw his head back as Wolfram bit into his jugular with sharp teeth, almost spitefully. The Prince Consort was hurriedly disrobing them simultaneously while straddling his panting lover on the bed where they had consummated their union for the first time the night previously. After which, Wolfram had proclaimed resolutely that it would never be repeated and that he had felt ashamed of himself for the long nights discretions.

So, understandably, Markel was a little lost at this sudden turnabout in his favor. Of course, he was also ecstatic and pleased as punch. However, with his father as a politician, he had grown up with teachings telling him when something was amiss, and thus, he knew to be cautious with 'too good to be true' offers.

"I want you." Wolfram breathed against his lips whilst his hands ripped at the shirt covering Markel's chest and arms, and the delicate material gave without a fight causing Markel's heart to jump and his mouth to go dry. "Isn't that enough?"

Actually, Markel rather thought it was more than enough.

"Well, whatever it may be, I like it." He whispered with a seductive grin which Wolfram immediately kissed from his lips. And Markel wrapped his arms around the beautiful man glowing above him and rolled them over to take his rightful place between the Prince Consort's strong and elegant legs.

Lust singed his skin as his collided with Wolfram's tinted red with heat and passion. And the noises he pulled from the man beneath him were intoxicating, empowering, as he dragged his body against Wolfram's smaller, slimmer figure molding their bodies together, hoping and longing for them to fit.

There was no greater love than this.

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Markel groaned as Wolfram rode him at a gallop. The slick sound of their sex filling the room as the very air simmered from the fervor they made together. Wolfram was a fallen angel above him, bare and flushed, his glowing pale skin shimmering with sweat as his rolled and his cock bounced, slapping hard against his soft belly.

Wolfram held him down forcefully, his blushing biceps tightening while his delicate hands pressed hard into Markel's golden pictorials, his long nails biting into his moist skin for purchase. Markel could only gasp and buck upwards in and out of the sweltering heat holding him tight. Wolfram had his golden head thrown back in ecstasy, his intent thrumming through his whole being to reach his peek. Again.

And again.

Markel shouted out when Wolfram's body convulsed around him, squeezing his rigid cock in a death grip as Wolfram mewled and spurted his passion over Markel's heaving chest. Markel pressed his blunt fingertips into Wolfram's round and bruised hips until Wolfram hissed and rocked hard upon him again, and Markel felt another pool of wetness gush from Wolfram into his quaking pelvis.

"How?" Markel breathed, losing time between erupting inside his love and drifting in and out of a world filled with molten lava.

"Shhh." Wolfram silenced him with his mouth and tongue and sharp nipping teeth. Markel felt his lips swell while his ears buzzed.

Wolfram rocked his hips gently, circling his pelvis in between short, rippling thrusts. Markel groaned again in agonized pleasure as his sensitive cock was stimulated just enough to keep him hard. Markel couldn't understand Wolfram expression in the moment, not with the powerful endorphins pulsing throughout his body.

When Wolfram leaned down again to bite hard on his jaw, he thought his Wolfram looked feral.

Finally, his feral Wolf.

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Wolfram had missed lunch with Gwendal, Günter and Gisela again. Anissina no longer worked in the Palace, although, technically she still had residence within her quarters and lab which remained full of her failed inventions. She had left to 'Travel' fifteen years previously and had written many letters and books of her 'adventures' throughout that time. Unofficially, she, like Conrad and Cecilie, had chosen to remove herself from the oppressive atmosphere which now engulfed their home, feeling useless and responsible, unable to handle it and, seeing no end, had fled from it.

Wolfram was beginning to think they were the smart ones, and the ones who had stayed behind were the real cowards.

It had been five months since Wolfram put his vengeance into action. Five months of sexual activity, which Wolfram now looked back on with burning skin and prickling excitement.

Yūri had even taken notice of Wolfram's change in behavior, specifically, his new found appreciation for his lover, Markel von Radford. The two were obvious about their increased time together locked in Wolfram's bedchamber for hours during the day and again at night, Wolfram never returning to their married bed, choosing instead the company of his lover over his cheating spouse. And Wolfram's clear dismissal of his husband and King was really starting to aggravate Yūri all of a sudden.

Such disrespect Wolfram was showing him, and publically. However, Yūri had allowed it thus far because he knew this was Wolfram's way of sulking about Yūri's decision to start a family of his own, and Yūri wasn't so heartless that he could disregard Wolfram's possible feelings. He was fully aware of the hurt he had inflicted upon his consort.

However, it was no excuse to treat the King so coldly, since Yūri was Wolfram's King first and foremost.

What Yūri hadn't realized was that Wolfram  **only**  thought of him as his King now, and no longer acknowledged him as his husband at all.

And suddenly, miraculously, after five months of hoping, wishing and praying, Wolfram became mysteriously sick.

Wolfram allowed Markel to hold his hair as he puked last night's dinner into the chamber pot. He had dropped to his knees beside the bed to drag it out from underneath quickly, when his pleasant dream of young voices calling out to him in the hazy distance had abruptly ended with his stomach twisting in knots, for the eighth morning in a row.

"I think it's time for you to inform Gisela of your illness." Markel murmured with concern as he held his love trembling in his arms while he gagged and drooled, hunched over on the floor worryingly. "You've delayed long enough, it's obviously something serious, and I'm not taking no for an answer this time."

Wolfram chocked on a manic giggle as he swiped at his sickly moist forehead, his hooded eyes glancing amusedly over his shoulder at his fretful lover. "You don't have the authority to make me." he gloated, already exhausted.

Markel smirked and raised a trim eyebrow playfully. "True. But there is nothing stopping me from toddling off to tell Gwendal about your inability to take care of yourself."

Wolfram glared at him. "You wouldn't dare. He'd blame you too."

Markel softened his smile and leaned forward to kiss Wolfram's pale and moist cheek. "My only concern is your wellbeing, My Prince. I care not what happens to me."

Wolfram snorted and slumped heavily into the familiar strong arms and chest encircling him. "Romantic fool." he accused quietly.

Markel chuckled, a deep and soothing bubble of laughter. "Only for you, My Prince. Only for you."

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"It is confirmed. Your Royal Highness, Prince Consort is pregnant. Congratulations." Gisela told him with a crooked smile, seeming not to know if her diagnosis would be well received. And Wolfram understood the reason was because she knew for a fact what everyone else would too, that the Prince Consort's pregnancy had nothing to do with the Maō.

Wolfram smiled, relief flooding through him and over him with the strength of a tidal wave. He had done it. Stage two of his revenge was complete.

The next part would be the tricky bit.

"Is the Maō's Concubine pregnant yet?" Wolfram asked casually, although, the answer he hoped for was obvious.

Gisela, gratefully, shook her head in the negative. "There is no sign of a pregnancy so far." She paused awkwardly, her eyes intent and searching. Wolfram allowed her scrutiny, he could guess her thoughts. "Wolfram, please, don't get your hopes up with his Majesty again? He may reject this child and you, this may change nothing."

Wolfram smiled at her kindly, warmed by her distress for his feelings as well as his health. "You need not worry about me anymore, Gisela." he assured in a tender voice, his hands caressing the flat muscles of his stomach, tenderly. "I'm no longer doing this for Yūri's sake."

Gisela looked confused and maybe even more anxious, but she smiled and placed her hand over his, squeezing to show her love and support. "Are you going to tell his Majesty?" she queried in a hushed voice.

Wolfram smirked triumphantly, unable to help himself.

"Yes, of course."

...To Be Continued...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Responses to Reviews: (fanfiction.net)
> 
> YuuRam is the endgame, HOWEVER, the whole point of this part of the series is for Yuuri to suffer the consequences of his decisions, I'm not about to redeem him without making him fight for it and neither is Wolfram. Wolfram is going to make Yuuri regret his actions and then break him before Wolfram will even consider forgiveness as an option. Like I said, Yuuri's gone too far now and there's no easy fix for how bad its gotten.
> 
> And right now, forgiveness isn't even on the table for YuuRam. And Wolfram's lover is very much in the Prince Consort's favor right now. I just have a plan on how to get YuuRam on more even ground. Not all is exactly as it seems either. This isn't going to be a short fic nor will it happen within a single year. I hope you'll bare with me for now.
> 
> (15/10/2015 EDIT:) I want to make it clear that I really, really DON'T believe that Yuuri has or will EVER act this way. I love YuuRam so much and what I love most about them is that their love is so innocent and pure and good, and I don't care how the anime twisted that for whatever reason. The TRUTH is that YuuRam is a beautiful love between two young boys who'd do anything for each other and will love one another no matter what. I just wanted to make that clear. The whole reason for this series from the Dry Wind future perspective is for me to take the views I see reoccurring in KKM! fandom on the YuuRam relationship, write them at their worst and then LATER change it to fit better with how I see them. This story is ALL the most angst-ridden tropes I've come across in the YuuRam fandom (infidelity being THE major one), but I DON'T believe in it being true to canon. My other YuuRam fics won't be anything like this and I'll be able to be more true to myself once I get this series off my chest. With that said, I hope everyone does enjoy the angst and suffering I pile on in this part of the story arc.
> 
> (And)
> 
> The two Sequels are alternative stories following the end of THE DRY WIND FUTURE. I hope that clears up everything. ^_^
> 
> Let me know if anyone has anymore questions!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wolfram makes his final move in his revenge, takes back himself and throws away the mask he'd been wearing for so long...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story Notes: I've made some changes to the first chapter! It was my mistake, I reread but didn't edit what I'd written years ago before posting now I'm ready to get this story out. But you don't have to read the first chapter again! Just know that Greta DOESN'T marry Rinji! (What was I thinking?) She marries Beatrice and unites their Kingdoms! And the important thing to take from that is NO GRANDCHILDREN, which makes much more sense. Sorry about that!

Stone silence met Wolfram and Gisela's announcement that evening with everyone seated at the long dining table. Gwendal and Günter were flabbergasted, having dreaded such an announcement to come from the Maō, not his Consort. However, Wolfram was watching his King with keen eyes, his attention only for him, after his news had been delivered and confirmed.

Yūri was staring into space, seemly at nothing, and he was deathly pale in contrast to his usual tan complexion. He had dropped his eating utensils in the resounding silence which followed the impossible announcement. Yūri looked and felt completely lost.

“How?” the King enunciated slowly as if the three letter word had no meaning to him.

Günter startled in his seat. “Y-you're Majesty?” he stammered unable to predict the outcome of this turn of events.

“ **How**?” Yūri repeated sharply suddenly furious. He jumped to his feet and slammed his hands on the dinner table, rattling the cutlery and the other occupants of the room.

Wolfram smiled quietly to himself as Yūri struggled not to crumble before his entourage. Wolfram could see it all caving in as realization dawned on his wayward husband.

Yūri had no idea Wolfram could have been giving him everything the baseball boy had ever wanted all along. Wolfram was no fool. He had always known Yūri had pushed him aside for this reason only, however he also knew without needing to try that Yūri would never have believed it without seeing the truth for himself.

Günter gaped at the Maō, lost for words as Yūri stared him down. Gwendal came to his husband's rescue. “Mazoku reproduction was included in your Majesty's education which was completed years ago. If your Majesty was unaware of this possibility then perhaps your Majesty should think about resuming his unfinished education.” Gwendal advised snidely.

Yūri growled like a poked dragon does. “I think I would have remembered if a guy getting pregnant was mentioned.” He refuted at once.

Günter interrupted Gwendal with a hand on Gwendal's clenched fist around his knife. “Your Majesty, I had attempted to educate you on the Mazoku reproductive system but your Majesty had proclaimed himself knowledgeable on the subject of something called, 'sex Ed' and insisted we move right along with the next subject.” He explained quietly, bewildered by the Maō's wrath being directed at him.

Yūri turned his cheek to them both and glared down at the polished wood table, huffing and puffing at his blurry reflection, a shadow of himself illuminated by the candlelight overhead.

“I always said you were a slacker. You have no one to blame but yourself.” Wolfram burst out, unable to contain his triumph any longer. Yūri's dark head snapped up and their eyes met, Wolfram's green eyes blazing with a passion that had been nonexistent mere months before, ebbed away over time now burning brighter than the flames in the heath, thriving once more.

Yūri didn't dare to break his gaze as he ordered everyone from the room. Günter and Gwendal hesitated as did Gisela, although she dropped into a bow immediately, she did not move away from Wolfram's side.

“Get. Out.” Yūri stressed in a direct order, knowing not one of them could refuse without betraying their country. Slowly, grudgingly, warily the three remaining guardians of the royal couple shuffled out of the dining room, leaving the volatile pair behind and closing the thick double paneled doors between them and the rest of the world.

The moment they were truly alone for the first time in years was surreal. There was so much left unspoken it thickened the air and made it hard to breathe, causing them to pant open mouthed but still no words came. The tension was at breaking point and there was nothing either of them could do to stop it.

Yūri snapped. He moved lightning quick towards Wolfram, across the room he grabbed him before his Consort could defend himself and smash their lips together as electricity crackled down from the dark sky outside, illuminating the melding of punishing lips as the storm broke beyond the rain battered windows.

Wolfram grappled with Yūri, pouring all his anger and hatred and longing from his soul into Yūri's through the meeting of their mouths. Yūri wasted no time burying his fingers into Wolfram's thighs and dropping him onto the long dining table. They knocked aside platters of gluttonous food and fine silverware cluttered to the stone floor scattering under the table and out of sight.

Yūri ripped Wolfram's black trousers from his body, barely taking the time to step back to remove them from the tangle around his feet. Wolfram kicked off his right boot with difficulty while they continued to devour each other. Thunder rumbled from miles above so loud it shook the ground beneath their feet.

Wolfram tore the ties from Yūri's pants and pushed the black cloth and leather down with the bare heel of his right foot, spreading his knees wide for Yūri to take him. Yūri broke their kiss to eye Wolfram's blue leather underwear before the knot finally came loose and he didn't think to pause as he finally sunk inside his Consort's body.

Wolfram gasped and everything slowed as he took Yūri inside easily, his natural slick soothing the sharp penetration. Yūri hissed close to Wolfram's panting mouth, staring wide-eyed and suddenly youthful into his fiery green depths.

Yūri gulped when his mouth watered and hesitantly leaned in to brush his lips against Wolfram's. Wolfram fisted his hand in Yūri's thick, long hair and tugged him back to his mouth, sliding his tongue inside sensually while they stared into each other.

The double black groaned and jerked his hips forward, and Wolfram moaned. Encouraged, Yūri yanked Wolfram forward by his thighs meeting him with a hard slam of his pelvis. Wolfram mewled, his eyes fluttering shut and then it was as if he had unleashed a beast from within. They rut together, a force to be reckoned with while the storm continued to rage and the windows fogged from the heat inside combating the icy lash of rain outside.

Yūri stripped off his jacket and half unbuttoned his shirt before he gave in and pulled Wolfram harder against him again. Wolfram pinched his ears and held on tight, bouncing himself off Yūri's pistoning body.

They had both known pleasure before but this… this was **_them_**.

Wolfram shuddered when his cock suddenly burst between them, painting them both with his release. Yūri quaked against him when he groaned as if gutted, emptying himself in thrashing waves inside Wolfram's steadily pliant body.

The storm outside quieted even as the rain refused to let up.

They held each other, keeping close while the air became easier to take in and the moment extended as reality returned to them. Yūri stepped back, slipping free from Wolfram's body heat and watched as Wolfram refuse to look at him while he attempted to pull his destroyed clothing in some semblance of order.

Wolfram's skin sizzled with the echo of his excitement and his embarrassment over losing all control like that. However, meeting Yūri's black and soulful eyes, he knew he wasn't alone in that.

Yūri held his hand out to Wolfram, and Wolfram hesitated before taking it allowing his husband of one hundred and seventy four years to help him down from his perch on the dining table, stepping away from the mess they'd created whilst they righted their clothing as much as possible. It would be obvious once they left the room what had transpired between them, there was no helping that.

Wolfram's quiet smile returned.

“You know as King I can order you to terminate that child.” Yūri suddenly spoke, his voice harsh in the disruption of the silence between them. Wolfram lost his smile, his teeth clenched behind his white pursed lips. Yūri wouldn't stop staring and continued. “I won't.” he assured, shocking Wolfram into relaxing his defensive stance. “I don't care if it's your lover's child, what matters to me is that it's yours, and since we're married what's yours is mine. I would never hurt our child, Wolf.” After a moment to absorb that, Wolfram nodded. Yūri's expression was serious. “I want us to be faithful to each other from now on. I will send Melinda away with compensation for her troubles and I want you to do the same with von Radford. We'll raise our child together and have a family again.” Yūri concluded joyously.

“No.” Wolfram denied him.

Yūri floundered for a moment before asking furiously. “What?”

“No, your Majesty, I will not turn away the only person who has ever truly loved me.” Wolfram repeated with purpose. Yūri's eyes slitted and a dark aurora enveloped the room but Wolfram was not intimidated. “Despite what just happened, I have no intention of raising my child with you. And I won't deny Markel his parental rights. Do what you will with your whore, your Majesty, but the other father of my baby is staying by my side.”

Wolfram didn’t wait for the shock of his rejection to settle into Yūri's shifted reality, but rather turned his back to his King and walked away with that small secretive smile upon his kiss swollen lips.

He'd forgotten what it felt like to be free.

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Despite Wolfram's cold parting, Yūri made the necessary arrangements for his concubine to be tested for pregnancy a final time before being sent back to her family in the Gyllenhaal lands along the coast of the Odra River, which bordered the Great Demon Kingdom from inland, flowing around Rochefort, Radford and Karbelnikoff territories and out into the open Ocean.

Melinda won't be happy, but Yūri's word was law and he saw no reason to keep his female lover now that his husband was pregnant. Yūri was still reeling from the possibility but he was also happy. He missed the joyful sound of children's laughter. He smiled sadly at the memory of Greta and Beatrice running around, their hands clasped, and their happiness infectious to all who saw them play together. Thinking back, Yūri should have been better prepared for their wedding announcement.

The Maō lost his smile as the memory turned bitter and the reality of Greta and Beatrice no longer laughing, no longer living, their smiling faces buried in the earth to rot. What was worse was because they were both women – and Yūri now knew, human – they left behind no trace of themselves in children. Now, six generations of grandchildren at minimum could have soothed the emptiness of their loss, where only silence remained.

Shibuya Yūri was no fool. He knew his grief had made him bitter and insensitive to others where once he was kind to a fault, unwavering in his empathy for everyone no matter who they were or where they came from. He was conscious of the hurt he had inflicted through his withdrawal from his friends and family, he couldn’t even remember the last time he saw his brother Shōri, now Maō of Earth and widowed with his own grown up great, great, great grandchildren. Yūri didn’t even visit his own family anymore, why would anybody expect him to still care for those closest to him?

 _I don’t care_ , he realized, staring out his office window at the constant blue-grey sky, everything somehow dulled over time. He felt nothing for Melinda, no regret for sending her away after years of her occupying his bed. He barely took any pleasure from her body anyway, she only quieted his grief and hatred for this reality long enough to feel the blissful numbness that came after he’d soaked up what little body heat she possessed, before he sent her away again to let the darkness of his silent, empty room swallow him whole before spitting him back out in the hard light of the next tired morning.

However, today, for just a moment he’d felt the cruel, itchy fingers of hope claw at his cold and buried soul, for as long as he was wrapped in the searing heat of Wolfram’s body, he felt something long forgotten, something he’d believed was lost forever, he had felt a spark of his old self ignite in the blaze of green eyes, and he remembered how to feel again.

Now, he felt colder than ever before. He’d been better off never knowing, never understanding just how unfeeling he had become, frozen in a time of immense sadness while life moved on without him, dead like his family, like his daughter, like his naivety.

 _How the mighty hath fallen_ , he chuckled to himself bitterly.

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Wolfram practically skipped towards the Concubine quarters, his long veil of curls bouncing with each step as the indignant shrieks of one ex-concubine, Melinda von Gyllenhaal echoed off the stones walls, music to his ears carried on the fresh draft of autumn breeze. The Prince Consort entered through the open chamber doors with his head held high and a smirk upon his lush lips.

“Your Highness!” A guard exclaimed, dropping to his knee immediately upon the unexpected sight of Prince Wolfram. Five more guards in silver armor fell into the same low bow, with deep respect for their beloved Prince.

Markel stood up straight from where he had been leaning on the balcony doorframe and watching the chaos unfold with a wary frown. He stayed rooted to the ground at the vision of peaceful happiness Wolfram made with his sweet greeting smile, having forgotten how beautiful his old friend’s smile used to be.

 _“You!”_ A loud voice accused the Prince, shattering the peace within those green eyes and setting them blazing onto where Melinda stood, no longer perfectly put together, her blonde hair limp and loose from the pins having kept it artfully quaffed. The rouge of her cheeks and lips was smeared from sweat in her struggle to stop the guards from packing up and removing her pretty things from the palace. And her eyes shone an enraged red in the fading light of the sun setting below the violent hue of the horizon, saturating the room from beyond the open balcony windows.

Wolfram merely smiled at her, his emerald colored eyes sparkling with the unspoken events of the day. She knew this was his doing, and Wolfram reveled in her incredulity of his conquest over her failure.

“You think this is over?” She spat at him, stalking forward until she was sneering up at Wolfram’s serene face, causing the guards to shuffle towards them nervously on their silver-plated knees. Markel twitched his left hand to his right hip reflexively, and tensed when he remembered he was no longer permitted a weapon as a royal concubine. “You think he’s yours now you’ve stuffed yourself full of someone else’s spawn?” She titled her ugly expression to Markel, who glared back at her darkly. She turned back to Wolfram with a disgusted cackle. “You’re a pathetic replica of what he craves, what **I am**. _Y_ _ū_ _ri_ will call on me again, as soon as he remembers what you **really are**. I give it a few months, but I **will** be back just in time for you to die as that _thing_ is ripped out of you…”

Markel leaped forward in the same instant that Melinda gasped out in pain. Markel froze as Melinda’s muddy brown eyes gaped at Wolfram as he gazed down at her, almost pitying.

“No.” Wolfram told her softly. “You won’t.”

The guards had risen to defend their Prince, now bowed their heads to the bloodied gurgle of Lady Melinda as she slid off the end of Wolfram’s blade, holding her abdominal as blood wept into her cupped hands.

Wolfram wiped her blood off his ornate dragger, the only weapon he kept on his person since he became Prince Consort with his handkerchief contemplatively until not a spot marred the thin steel and he sheathed it back inside his right, black jacket sleeve over the frilled sleeve of his white silk shirt.

Markel was stunned immobile, watching disbelievingly while the Lady Melinda steadily poured out onto the staining purple carpet. The guards moved swiftly around the room, not interfering, hurrying about their duty to erase every hint of the Lady’s presence from Blood Pledge Palace.

Finally, Wolfram acknowledged the fainted concubine at his feet, pursing his lips in distaste before sighing. “One of you, please take Miss von Gyllenhaal to Gisela immediately before she bleeds out all over the place?”

All the guards halted their activity and hesitantly looked between each other, until one guard bowed low, dropping everything in his hands to approach and pull the slight form of the noble woman into his arms and quickly run from the room.

Markel breathed easier once Melinda was taken care of and finally, stepped up to Wolfram, encircling his arms around his shoulders and burying his dark blue head in his lover’s pale neck. The older Mazoku sighed when Wolfram received him with open arms, wrapping around his waist.

“Come.” Wolfram pulled him closer while he took a step towards the still open double doors. Markel looked into those burning green eyes, soaking in the want there directed at him, for him. “If we leave now we can be packed and gone before nightfall.”

Markel felt his heart freeze in his chest. He couldn’t mean what he thought he meant, could he? Markel had a clear and bright vision of his father’s estate on Radford territory by the Odra River. A picnic blanket and spring flowers, and kisses exchanged over hand fed fruits in the sunlight. Wolfram tugged him out of the wing and towards the Prince Consort’s private bedchamber since all traces of the Prince Consort had left the Maō’s bedroom months ago, unable to do anything but blindly follow.

The whisper in his heart of hope for the future was loud in his buzzing head, and he couldn’t shake the faint echo of a baby’s cry.

Markel couldn’t predict what would happen next but he knew he would follow Wolfram to the ends of the world and over the edge into oblivion if that was where Wolfram was headed. He couldn’t do anything but, anymore.

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Günter ran into Gwendal’s private office at full speed causing Gwendal to look up from his paperwork to watch as his husband skidded to a halt before his huge desk. Günter’s lilac hair was entirely white now and yet he still radiated an ageless beauty, and he hadn’t slowed down over the past two hundred years. Gwendal actually believed his lover was faster than ever before, which made no sense to him.

He could only account for married life agreeing with them both in different but substantial ways.

“Gwendal!” Günter gasped out, his hands fluttering in the air around him even while he shoved the door shut with his foot behind him. His purple eyes wide with a confusing amount of emotion, his high neck, floor length purple-grey tunic rumpled from the usually graceful air mage’s harried activity. Gwendal internally braced himself for the worst.

“What has happened now?” He sighed. He was still reeling from Wolfram’s announcement of his pregnancy. As far as he had known, his baby brother had rejected Lord Markel’s advances until now, so he had been completely unprepared for Wolfram’s choice to ask the Great One for the Mother’s gift.

There had been rumors to the contrary, of course, but Gwendal had never paid attention to the maid’s superficial gossip.

“It’s Wolfram, Gwen! He’s gone mad! I saw a guard carrying Lady Melinda as I was on my way from visiting Gisela in her office, she’s been working too hard, late into every night this week as you know, trying to procure as much antidote to the wolf venom that’s been killing our livestock these past months. I told her, she was more useful to The Great Demon Kindom well rested and fed instead of sleep-deprived and weak from hunger…”

“Dearest.” Gwendal sighed, and Günter halted his rambling immediately just as he always did on the rarest occasions when his husband uttered the only endearment he could say with genuine affection. Gwendal had learned to use it in these kinds of situations. “What has Wolfram done to Miss von Gyllenhaal?”

“Oh.” Günter flushed as he calmed himself, smoothing down his white cloak around him before taking a deep breath and looking his grey-haired husband in his forget-me-not blue eyes. “His Prince Consort has stabbed Lady Melinda in the abdominal, Gwendal. I oversaw Gisela’s examination of her and it seems she will recover, however I marked how close the wound was to the womb and I fear that Wolfram had known where to strike to do the most damage to the Lady’s future lineage.” He hesitated a moment before he finished. “And as consequence His Majesty, Yūri’s possible legacy.”

Gwendal couldn’t help himself. His lips twitched and pulled, and even though he pushed his hand over his mouth, his shaking shoulders were as telling as the sparkle in his eyes. Günter stood before him, his own eyes wide in horror over his husband’s apparent amusement at the horrific behavior of their Prince Consort. There entire Kingdom balanced on a knife edge threatening to crumble into chaos and the Chief Commander of the Maō’s army was _laughing_ , _giggling to himself._

“Gwen, have you gone mad?” Günter asked him gravely.

Gwendal shook his head as he wiped his eyes clear even as they continued to water through his hysteria. Günter watched him helplessly, unable to move for fear of breaking his seemingly emotionally distraught husband.

“I am relieved.” Gwendal sighed, taking in deep breaths to quiet his fading chortles. Günter just stared at him. “I am.” He insisted. “I am relieved. I had worried for the longest time that my brother was lost to me, dead and buried under his grief and heartache, the two most toxic sins of the world I could never save him from nor hope to protect him. But now, I see that he was only overwhelmed. My brother lives and has come back to us, fighting.” He smiled, a rare sight which only his husband had seen for many, many years.

Günter’s mouth titled up at the corners despite his own worry for the future. He was powerless in the face of his beloved’s relief and, dare he believe it, happiness.

The air mage rounded the huge desk piled high with paperwork ready to be inked and approved, to sit in his husbands lap, cradling his wrinkled and damp face in his palms, and kissing the deepest crease between heavy-set eyebrows.

 Perhaps this was the Maō’s justice.

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“Are you sure about this, my Prince?” Markel asked him hesitantly, the ornate dagger in his left hand while his sapphire eyes met determined emerald in the vanity mirror from where he was standing behind the Prince who was seated on the stool.

“I already told you I was sure.” Wolfram chided his good mood infectious. Markel returned his serene smile as he raised the thick braid of golden locks tied tightly in blue ribbon, the sharp blade of the dagger in his left hand poised above the bow just below the nape of his lover’s elegant neck.

He pulled the dagger quickly and carefully toward himself, slicing through the threads of golden silk until the heft of the braid fell free and Wolfram shook out his cropped curls, a literal weight lifted from his shoulders, feeling lighter than he had in years.

Staring back into the vanity mirror, Prince Wolfram smiled at his own image. The person reflected there was no longer a stranger to his eyes.

“Now you.” Wolfram said, causing Markel to awaken from his lustful daze.

Markel reached for his own tail of hair, brushing the dark blue hair over his broad shoulder, weaving his long fingers through the smooth tresses reverently. Over the past century it had become fashionable for the nobility to grow their hair to mark their status, since the Maō’s power had been marked by the length of his hair and his remained the longest in the Kingdom. Markel knew cutting off their hair wasn’t only for Wolfram’s want of his old self, but also an insult to the King.

After all, Wolfram’s curls had almost been as long as his King Husband’s.

Until now.

Markel raised the steel of the dagger once again, keeping his eyes locked with burning green, he pushed the blade outward from between his tense neck and bunched hair until the thud of weight hit the carpet beside his feet. He took a deep breath when it was done, feeling his chin length bangs flutter around his face until they resettled anew.

Wolfram got to his feet before him and cupped his jaw, kissing him chastely on the left side of his mouth as if in thanks for his courage and acceptance of their entwined fate. When the Prince moved away again, Markel steeled himself for the next move.

They were both dressed in their commoner clothing. Wolfram, in his green tunic, grey trousers and boots strapped on his old baldric and sword with long forgotten ease, while Markel was in his standard blue tunic, brown trousers and boots, his own sword a glad presence on his right hip. It had been too long since he felt the weight and security of a weapon on his person. And it was much needed this night.

Markel doubted the Maō would let his Prince Consort walk away freely, even though the Demon King had never shown any interest in his husband’s whereabouts until today.

Markel expect a fight before the sunrise on the morrow.

There lay a sealed letter upon Wolfram’s bed. Markel knew without asking that it was addressed to the Maō, and as he had stood over his lover’s shoulder while he inscribed it, he knew it simply read: _“Goodbye,_ _Y_ _ū_ _ri.”_

He should ask what his lover’s plan was but he was too afraid of the answer. For now, he would trust and follow.

They had one leather satchel between them, carrying the bare essentials. One change of clothing each, weapons in the form of small knifes and a compass, the Bielefeld broche and one luxury in the form of Wolfram’s frilly pink nightshirt. Markel shouldered the half-full bag and entangled his fingers with Wolfram’s when his Prince reached for him.

Wolfram led the way through the castle down towards the belly where the Kitchen would be their next stop. They would need provisions for the long ride ahead, and Markel had no idea where Wolfram would lead them, so he would make sure they had enough bread and cheese to last for weeks.

Markel hadn’t mentioned the Maō and neither had Wolfram.

Before they could reach their destination however, the Great Sage appeared to be waiting in the middle of the otherwise deserted walkway between them and the kitchens.

Wolfram held fast to Markel’s hand as if he believed his lover would let go now that they might have to fight for what they both wanted. Markel reminded himself that Wolfram had reason to doubt someone’s love for him after so long married to the Maō.

“So this is it then.” The Great Sage remarked, watching them from behind cool glass. “Prince Wolfram’s revenge, impregnated by his lover, gutted his King Husband’s lover for good measure and now, fleeing into the night never to be seen by his family and friends again?” Wolfram said nothing. “Of course, it will hurt Yūri more now after he has tasted the flesh he denied himself for so long. After all, you had to make sure, and he couldn’t miss what he’d never known, right, your Highness?”

Markel tensed, unable to stop himself. He’d known. There had been more reason to Wolfram’s satisfaction than his revenge upon Lady Melinda. No, it had been too personal, too freeing. He’d known, but it still hurt to have it confirmed.

He had no right to be hurt. He knew what he was and had long ago accepted that he would never have Wolfram to himself alone. How could be with his lover married to another?

But it still hurt.

Wolfram squeezed his hand, his own body tense and held his ground.

“You played your own part, your Grace.” Wolfram said, imperviously. His own cool green gaze, unwavering. “You must have known it would end this way. Have you come to stop me? Do you want to save your King from my wrath?”

The atmosphere was intense. All three of them hadn’t missed the meaning behind Wolfram choice of words. His elegance was no longer to the Maō. It made Markel’s pulse jump and race, his powerful legs twitching to do the same and get his lover far away.

 “I have come here to ask you not to run anymore.” Murata confessed, his cool façade slipping to reveal a desperation that put the fear of god into Markel. “I plead for you to stay here, within the castle, your home. Where your family still loves you and the best healer and knowledge of demon pregnancy can reach you. I want to save **you** , my Prince.”

Silence enveloped the hallway, not a sound interrupted them, no voices to intercede or footsteps to intercept. Only one man stood between Wolfram and freedom, and yet it was Markel who hesitated.

“I think we should stay.” He dared. Wolfram pivoted on his heel to stare up at him, betrayal alit in his wide eyes. “Only for your health.” Markel attempted to reason, he knew his lover was beyond that in this moment which is why he had to say this now. “The Wiseman is wise, Wolfram. If we leave now, who will deliver our babe into the world? You cannot ask me to cut you open and risk your life with no healing magic to save you. Please, don’t ask me to.” He begged in a whisper, his own eyes wide in fear.

Wolfram shook his head and dropped Markel’s hand. He stood between the two other men, looking to each one with disgust.

“Do neither of you remember that **I** have healing magic? Do you think me so careless I’d not thought this through? I **can do this** myself!” Wolfram exploded with his face red and his eyes glittering with tears that wouldn’t fall.

“Can you do this by yourself?” The Grate Sage challenged, stepping forward urgently. Wolfram glared at him, indignant. “Childbirth is not something you’ve ever experienced before, so how could you know what you’re capable of achieving?” He shook his head and pleaded again. “At least for the first time, _please_ admit that you **might** need help, that you **could die** if there are complications, _please_?”

Once again, silence met the Wiseman’s plea. Markel felt frozen, now that the sun had set and the dark had crept inside the walkway, the heat from the flames held in the sconces on the walls unable to reach him across the gloom.

“I can’t.” Wolfram, finally whispered. “I can’t face Yūri again. There is too much hurt, too much hatred… I **can’t** stay where he is…”

Markel let the magnetic pull he felt urge him forward and wrapped his arms around the broken Prince, the bold mask he had worn turning to ash in the torchlight of the cold stone hallway. Wolfram clung to him as he had never allowed himself to do, sobbing into his chest as reality killed the dream once more and set everything aflame around them.

The Great Sage also stepped forward, his hand reach out and smoothing down the Prince Consort’s back, attempting to comfort when nothing could set right the wrongs of their time. There were simply too many to fight.

“Beautiful Wolfram.” The Sage uttered softly, his voice full of regret. “I cannot shield you from the hurt you feel, but I can offer you the hope of love in your future. If all else crumbles into darkness, the light inside you can always guide you home. And right now, there is a babe who needs to be kept warm and safe, nurtured and protected, and you need to trust in all those who love you to get you through this time. If you are right, and you can heal yourself when the time comes, then there will be nothing more to keep you from your freedom. We just have to be sure, for your sake and your babe’s.”

Wolfram nodded into Markel’s embrace, his breathing wet and labored as he allowed his agony to crash over him again and again until it eventually breaks and exhaustion is all that remained.

Markel weathered the storm, being his lover’s rock amongst the tide, and when his Prince wilted into sleep, he held him up and took him back to bed.

...To Be Continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT CHAPTER: Yuuri hears of Melinda's injury, is confronted by Murata and summons Wolfram for a long overdue talk…
> 
> _  
> I understand that this story is very angsty and can cause very negative emotions, so please, please overload your beautiful brains with fluffy goodness before and after reading this story! And know that I deeply love this fandom and the YuuRam pairing is literally my OTP over all other OTPs. So, please take care of yourselves and trust that however bad things seem right now; I won't ever hurt these precious babies without plot reasons and will NEVER end a fic UNhappily ever after.
> 
> I love you, YuuRam fans!


	3. A/N

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NOT A CHAPTER! Authors Note: IMPORTANT!

**RESPONSE TO REVIEW:** **_Westkitsune_ (fanfiction.net)**

**I just wanted to reassure you that I really, really AM NOT going to kill off my OC...**

**I'm actually confused why you would think that.**

**Also, my father is a cheater too, so we have that in common. If you don't want to read this fic anymore, I understand, I have an aversion to cheating fics too which is actually why I wrote TFFtB in the first place. Everything will become clear eventually but you shouldn't read anymore if it triggers these bad feelings. I am very insulted that you jumped to your own conclusions but I understand that it is a harsh subject with many bad memories so I won't take it personally.**

**Please don't judge me before the end since none of what you said are at all my plans for this story. It may seem like it's hopeless right now but I put in my note at the end of the chapter that I would NEVER do these things to my OTP without plot reasons, I'm just sorry that you somehow missed that.**

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**If anyone reading this fic thinks I'm going to somehow force YuuRam together without first dealing with the angst and their** **problematic behaviours  ** **then please be assured that is NOT my intention.**

**Also, SPOILER!ALERT: Markel DOES NOT DIE!**

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_**About the tone of reviews this story is getting:** _

**I don't know how many times I can reassure readers that I'm not doing this half-heartedly or lazily or whatever, I genuinely have a plot and I'm sticking to it. The reason WHY I even started this fic was to take all the repetitive themes in this fandom, like Yuuri cheating with women and him blaming Wolfram for being a man because he's not gay, but I want to change the outcome since all those stories usually end with YuuRam** **_not together_ ** **or** **_horrifically traumatised_ ** **by the events that bring them together. THAT'S.** **NOT** **. GOING. TO. HAPPEN. HERE. Also, I realised that usually Wolfram would be paired with someone else, have children and then that person would die, leaving him a single parent. But rest assured, in this story MARKEL** **DOESN'T** **DIE. I'm changing all that though the events in the beginning are deliberately very similar. I know it's difficult to believe, I've come across too many fics like this myself which is exactly why you're just going to have to trust me.**

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**_BatShitCrazy21_ (fanfiction.net): ** **You're supposed to hate Yuuri in this story; I'm really not pulling any punches. TFFtB is every fan's bad thought about Yuuri, his worst points and for Wolfram too only a little less than Yuuri. I don't think Yuuri's homophobic in canon nor do I believe his insistence that he's straight or that he's actively looking for a girlfriend and would leave Wolfram as soon as he found a pretty girl interested (I never have thought that canon), but in this story he's mostly what fans get angry about in canon, he did all the wrong things in this fic and now he has to deal with the consequences. And he will.**

**And you can love Markel! Don't be afraid, I really had no plans to ever kill him off, so it's safe to love him. For this fic, I definitely like Markel better than Yuuri, he's a good man and at no point does he become a villain.**

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**I DON'T CONDONE ANY OF THE BEHAVIORS IN THIS FIC! Every character is at fault for there own suffering, really.**

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**I do have a plan ready and waiting but I've decided to take a break from this fic, its just becoming too stressful having to explain myself over and over again without outright spoiling the plot (which I've been too tempted to do to sooth reader's worries).**

**So, this story will be continued but not for some time and definitely not this year. I think maybe I'm not ready for this story just yet.**

 

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter of 1st Sequel in this series is also NOW POSTED!


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